"After we kill Jenner," she qualified, her voice soft.
"Of course," he said. He leaned toward her, taking her hands in his and looking into her eyes intently. "I know that it's hard for you to understand, but I have to do this. This woman is responsible for destroying my life and killing my sister."
"Jess, has it ever occurred to you that she's just one cog in an entire system that killed your sister?"
she asked softly. "You've told me that you were created on an Imperial slave farm, that you were born into slavery. Is it really Jenner's fault that she happened to be the one who bought you?"
"You have no idea what you're talking about," he said abruptly. Something inside her sparked at his condescending tone.
"You're right," she snapped back. "I have no idea what it means to have lived my entire life under someone else's control. I have no idea what it means to work your fingers to the bone and get kicked for your efforts. And of course, I've never had to fear for my life."
The stunned look on his face was priceless, and without thought she burst into bitter laughter. He frowned; she stood and walked out of the cockpit, shaking her head. Men. They were all so arrogant.
How dare he think she wasn't capable of understanding his anger? She just didn't see the purpose in chasing one Pilgrim woman—however cruel—around the quadrant when they had been given a chance to start over with their lives. It wasn't going to bring Calla back.
She stalked down the corridor toward the suite of comfortable rooms that formed the bulk of the small ship's living space. She'd noticed a console in there earlier; perhaps the ship had a library. She needed a distraction.
Jess gazed after her as she left, utterly confused. How had he become the bad guy? How had a conversation about his suffering ended with him feeling like such an ass?
Of course she knew what suffering was about, he thought angrily. How could she doubt that he understood what kind of pain she had experienced? But her suffering was over; the men who had hurt her were dead. She had her vengeance; it was easy for her to move on.
He couldn't just let Jenner get away with what she had done to destroy him and Calla. She had sold him to the miners deliberately, he knew that. She'd wanted him dead; he knew too many of her dirty little secrets. Sooner or later he would have embarrassed her. Still, he'd thought there was more time.
He shook his head. No point in wishing he could go back. Calla was dead. Jenner had to pay. It was simple enough, so why didn't Bethany understand? Damn woman.
He sat there for several more minutes, trying to concentrate on following the control board as the auto-pilot propelled them to the edges of the system. Once they were good and clear, it would initiate a jump through hyperspace. Not for the first time, he marveled at the technology that made travel across the vast reaches of space possible.
But the computer couldn't hold his attention forever, and his thoughts kept turning back to Bethany.
She had been so upset when she left. He hated seeing her that way. He loved it when her face turned to his with a smile. She had a special way of looking at him that made him feel as if everything in the world was just right. When he came into a room she was always happy to see him. She would jump up and run over to him, giving him kisses interspersed with a thousand questions about some new aspect of life outside the asteroid belt.
None of that life had been in her face when she'd left him. He shook his head and sighed, leaning back in his chair. He needed to go and talk to her.
Leaving the auto-pilot to its mysterious tasks, he walked slowly down the corridor toward their living quarters. For a small ship, it was extremely comfortable. Three sleeping chambers, a sizeable fresher, living area and galley. There was even a small exercise room. Even more amazing to him was that they owned this lovely little vessel. Between the ore shipment and selling the freighter itself, they had done quite well financially. He realized he probably had more money at his disposal than Jenner did. It was a comforting thought. He entered the living area. Bethany was sitting in the living area before the main data terminal. She had to have heard him walk in, but she ignored him. He came to stand behind her, studying what she was doing. She seemed to be scrolling through a history text written in Basic.
"I didn't know whether you could read or not," he said.
She spoke curtly. "While the Pilgrim educational system is not particularly good, we do learn to read," she said.
Damn, he'd said the wrong thing. Now she was even more offended.
"We also took Basic arithmetic and computer programming," she said quieter. "It's fairly difficult to live on a mining station filled with complex equipment like recyclers and our hydroponics gardens without a little bit of education. Of course, I'm sure it's not up to your standards."
"I didn't mean to sound so insulting," he said, bringing his hands up to rest them lightly against her shoulders. She didn't respond, so he started to slowly knead. The muscles were tight beneath his touch; she wasn't going to make this easy.
"I'm also sorry about our discussion in the cockpit," he said. "It was wrong of me to belittle what you've been through. We're both survivors of slavery, just different kinds."
"I'm glad you realize that," she said. He continued kneading her shoulders, feeling some of the tension leave her body. Against his will, he could feel himself growing aroused. The smell of her hair wafted up toward him, and he inhaled deeply. A second later he wished he hadn't. His pants were suddenly too tight and he shifted uncomfortably. She seemed to be completely unaware of his arousal, continuing to scroll through the text before her. The silence between them lengthened, and he shifted again.
"Will you accept my apology?" he said finally. She shrugged her shoulders, and something in him snapped. He needed her forgiveness. He swiveled her chair around and knelt before her. Then he took each of her hands in his and looked directly into her face. She stared back, eyes questioning and a little surprised.
"I'm truly sorry," he said softly. She nodded her head at him, and he smiled. Then leaning forward, he kissed her gently on the lips.
It was a sweet kiss, almost passionless at first. At least on her part. His entire body clamored for him to pull her down, to jump on her and take her. He fought the urge, knowing it would be a terrible mistake. He wanted whatever happened between them next to come from her. He wanted her to acknowledge what he said, to let him know she understood his meaning deep down inside.
He held back a surge of triumph as she leaned forward into the kiss, deepening it slightly. It was still soft, and both of their mouths were still closed. But she was responding, nuzzling at his mouth just as he was nuzzling at hers.
They stayed that way for several minutes, and then he ended the kiss. He leaned his head against her chest, reaching both arms around her slender form to pull her close. She was soft, warm. His. He still wanted her, but that initial physical urgency had disappeared in a rush of emotion. He didn't want to simply roll her beneath him, to take her body with his.
He wanted to be close to her. Bethany. Close to whatever it was about her that had scared him so much a moment earlier when she hadn't wanted to talk to him.
Holding her made everything feel right again.
He could feel her fingers in his hair, stroking gently down, and then she kissed the top of his head.
She shivered, then pulled him tightly against her body. He could feel her shaking, and pulled away to see what was wrong.
She was crying.
A feeling of helplessness washed over him, and he tucked himself back against her, stroking her back in what he hoped was a comforting way.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I hurt you. Please stop crying, Bethany. I won't do it again, I promise."